Bonds Through Fire
by Half-Demon-Cali
Summary: AU. When disaster strikes, sometimes the only way to get yourself back on track is to have an unwanted heart-to-heart with a spiky-haired pyromaniac who may or may not be a philosophical genius. No slash. Implied Gruvia and NaLu. [Oneshot]


Shit guys, I'm sorry about not putting up the last chapter for _Identity_. But you know what?

Elsword.

Holy shit that game is addicting. It's taking up so much of my time. This oneshot was written just so I can get my ass back into the writing world. So without further ado, here you go.

* * *

He could hear their whispers.

"_Mama, why is that old man walking around with a cup?"_

It wasn't the first time someone had singled out the mug as an oddity. It also wasn't the first time he'd been called an old man.

"_Let's not make rude comments, dear. He's probably homeless. It's never nice to point it out to them."_

It wasn't the first time he'd been identified as a poor senior making his rounds around the park. This was the first time he'd decided to admit that the masses were right, though.

"_Poor guy looks like he's lost everything…"_

The sympathetic eyes were correct of course; but that didn't mean he liked the fact that they were.

* * *

"_Happy anniversary, Gray-sama!"_

"… _It's a cup."_

"_Actually, it's a mug! It's a mug with our memories ingrained in its ceramic! Don't you remember the Fairy Café?"_

"… _Huh… Well, this certainly makes the necklace I got you look like a piece of-"_

"_Gray-sama, language!"_

* * *

It was a trivial thing, really. Almost insignificant. After all, mugs could be bought anywhere. Not the ideal anniversary gift, and certainly not what he'd expected from his wife at the end of their first year. She was usually more flashy than that, sometimes overbearingly so.

Still, he could not turn down the gift. Not when it had such sentimental value behind it.

* * *

"_Papa, why do you always drink out of that same cup every morning?"_

"_Because if I didn't, your mother would go into another fit of hysterical crying."_

"_But why?"_

"_Because she loves me."_

"_But why?"_

"_I promise, Fuyu… When I figure that out, you'll be the first to know."_

* * *

Somehow, his girlfriend-turned-fiancée-turned-wife had managed to get her hands on the same coffee mug he'd drunken out of when they had breakfast on their first date. How she talked the owner into giving it up – Nevermind how she found the exact one when they all looked the same – Was something she never explained. She didn't have to. He knew she always went to extremes when it came to him.

A little boy stopped him in his path, hands out and eyes wide. His rosy fingers held a green bill, wrinkled over time. One glance to the side showed his nervous mother standing on the grassy field watching his every move. Maybe she thought he would try to hurt her son for trying to do a good deed.

No, he wasn't going to hurt him. He wasn't going to take the offering either. Offering a gentle pat on the head, he walked past the boy and continued his lifeless walk.

The little boy ran back to his mother, asking why the homeless man hadn't taken his money. The mother said it was something about pride.

* * *

"_You're letting me drink out of your mug, papa?"_

"_And why not? It's the best one we have, and I don't want anything spilling out when you drink your soup."_

"_But it's your special mug…"_

"_I don't mind if you use my Gray-sama's mug, Fuyu-chan. Now it can belong to the both of you!"_

"_Mine and papa's?"_

"_Sure, why not? I'm a big boy; I can share with my sick daughter."_

* * *

He was very aware of how he looked at the moment – How he'd looked for days even after moving in with his sister and her best friend temporarily. (He couldn't stand the pink-addled apartment, but it would have to do for now.)

He may be clean and rested, but his back was hunched as he walked and he hadn't shaved in too long to remember. With the growing stubble, listless eyes, and sagging lids, he looked far older than he should for someone in his late twenties.

* * *

"_Hello, is this Gray Fullbuster?"_

"_Yes. Who are you?"_

"_I'm sorry to call you when you're busy, but I'm afraid I'm contacting you with some dreadful news…"_

* * *

He knew he shouldn't have gone out that day. He shouldn't have left them alone with the stovetop not working properly. He knew he should've gotten the gas fixed when he had the chance.

The mug hung off his fingers, swaying side-to-side with his soft steps.

* * *

There was a gathering of people up ahead near the park's fountain. The crowd consisted mostly of children, with parents keeping careful watch some feet away. The sound of awe and cheer didn't have to work hard to make it to his ears.

Closer inspection revealed the main attraction to be an acrobatic man with hair as pink as a salmon crayon. While the phenotype color was distracting to a fault, Gray found his fire to be the bigger disturbance. Batons with great balls of flame at the ends twirled in his hands, licking and living off the air around them. _A pyromaniac_, was his initial sour thought. _A pyromaniac who knows a few tricks._

With a scoff, Gray turned and walked around the crowded fountain, leaving behind the ooh's and aah's while protectively clutching his mug to his chest.

* * *

The next day when Gray made his way through the park, the pyro was still there.

He had no idea what the rejected circus act was even _doing_ in his park. (Yes, Gray had dubbed it as _his_ park. Spending every day there until dusk gave him the mindset that, so long as he walked along the cement and grass, this would be _his_ territory.) Yet there he was, jumping all over the fountain's edge like a kid on too much Halloween candy. His smile bore a similar metaphor in the trudging man's mind.

He wasn't supposed to be there. He wasn't supposed to be disturbing his routine walk.

Him and his fire. They could fall and drown in that fountain for all he cared.

* * *

Day three, day four, and day five passed in the same way with the same glare tossed around. Day six was when Gray decided to bother to actually _watch_ the pyro's show.

He maintained a good distance from the circle of youth around the performer. Seated on the nearest bench that bordered the grass, the dark-haired man regarded the subject with cautious eyes. With the enormous grin that almost danced with him, the pyro seemed not to have a care in the world.

The thought made Gray scoff and inspect his mug more closely, finger running along the handle's only chip. Fire and carefree were not supposed to go together. Fire was dangerous. You were supposed to be vigilant around it, or it would go beyond your control. It was an unpredictable element, more so than the others.

And the very fact that the pyro was putting so little effort into his work – So little caution, not caring about it in the slightest – Made Gray seethe inside.

* * *

Day seven, day eight, day nine.

"I'll need a volunteer for my next trick!" he heard the rosette shout. _A volunteer?_ Gray snorted. _Who in the right mind would ever offer their assistance for something like that?_

Sure enough, children eagerly raised their hands and pushed each other out of the way to make themselves known. They wanted to be near the fire. They were too wrapped up in the illusion of a false beauty.

They didn't know how destructive the force could be.

It seemed the parents did, at the very least. Each of them had worried expression hidden carefully. Gray could only spot them because he knew he and his wife had made the same one when something had concerned their daughter in a negative way.

The pyro laughed heartily.

"Sorry, you guys! I know you all want to help me, and that shows what a great audience you are! However…" A wry smile passed along his features. "I don't think the parents here would approve of me teaching you kids how to play with fire. It's not safe for your age group, ya know?"

_It's not safe for anyone,_ Gray bit bitterly in his mind. _Let alone children._ At least the smiling pyro knew _that_ much.

"I was talking more to the adults, as a matter of fact," the pyro continued. "So, come on! Who's the bravest one here?" Gray wanted to roll his eyes, but fatigue only let them close momentarily.

_Like I said, no one in the right mind would get near fire willingly._

"You… you… No, no… Too wimpy-looking… Hey! How about you, good man? Yes you, by the bench all the way over there!"

The sudden silence caused Gray to look up. When he did, dark blue orbs met with onyx.

Him.

The pyro was looking at _him_.

"What's the matter?" The pyro grinned. "I know you find my acts interesting, seeing as you've been coming and watching for over a week now." He didn't think the performer would notice his dull presence, to be honest. "Come on, don't you want to try?"

Not even bothering to dignify that with a response, Gray clenched his mug and began walking away. The bench was calling him back – Asking for its owner to grace it with his presence. The pyro was also calling, though, and that was what deterred him from his claimed wooden throne.

"Whaaaat? I've never had someone walk away like _that_ before! You've hurt me with your shoulder of ice, droopy eyes!"

Gray growled.

That settled it.

The guy was out of his damn mind.

* * *

Day ten. His hands are going numb from constantly carrying around the mug. He doesn't let it bother him. He's not going to let go of it ever again.

Gray can tell the pyro is staring at him, wondering why he doesn't stop. Why he doesn't take up his rightful perch. He couldn't care less. He passes his bench up as he walks by.

His thumb brushes over the chipped ceramic in the meantime.

* * *

Day eleven. It's raining today. His hair is sticking to his face, but like with so many other things lately, Gray doesn't care.

When he gets to the fountain, not a soul is there. No pyro, no audience, no children or parents. _Of course not, _he thinks to himself. _Fire that small would be put out instantly in rain like this._

He can't see his own reflection in the fountain due to the splatter of droplets. Maybe that was a good thing. If he could see himself now, he probably wouldn't be happy with the image.

Then again, Gray hadn't found it in himself to care with how he particularly looked lately anyway. It was just one of the things on his list. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

"You loved the rain, didn't you?" he whispers to no one standing there. "Always such a gloomy rain woman."

He empties out the water that had collected in his mug into the fountain and trudges forward. His shoes leave tracks in the mud, but they're only temporary. Any evidence that he walked through there on that day was quickly erased by his wife's favorite weather.

* * *

Day twelve. It's sunny again.

The pyro is back, as is his audience.

He walks on. He finds a new bench.

* * *

Day thirteen. He's still being watched by him.

His old bench is calling out him, speaking of betrayal. Its cries fall on deaf ears. He stalks past it again, cementing their break-up while the rose-haired pyro watches distractedly. The children tell him to continue the act.

So he does.

* * *

Day fourteen.

An unexpected, unwanted visitor arrives at his new throne and plops down beside him.

"Do you always look like this?"

Gray barely manages to look at the pyro out of the corner of his eyes.

"Like what?" he asks bitterly. He's hoping his snippy tone will dissuade the nuisance from conversing with him. He really doesn't want to talk.

Nevertheless, his quiet attempt fails. "Like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders," the pyro responds bluntly. "Seriously, I've never seen someone so down in my entire life."

_Maybe that's just because you can't look past your own cheery nose,_ Gray thinks to himself.

"Is that so?" he mutters a reply. The pyro makes a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat.

"So what is it?" he continues to prod. "At first I thought you were homeless – You know, with the unshaven face and lifeless walk – But you come to the park in different clothes every day. And up close, you're cleaner and younger than I expected you to be."

"Is that so?" Gray repeated languidly.

"Yeah," the pyro snickered. "Never seen someone my own age look so beat up and torn down before. Makes me kind of sad." _Hard to believe, with a smile like that on your face,_ Gray thought. "So what's up with the cup, anyway?"

Gray manages to turn his head to finally face the pyro. He's met with upward-slanted eyes, an out-of-season scarf, and hair a hideously brighter shade of pink than he'd originally thought.

"It's called a mug," he said.

"Fine then, a _mug_," the pyro repeated with fingered air quotes. "No need to get technical, droopy eyes."

"No need to be a smart-ass, slanty eyes," Gray scoffed, vocalizing his inner thoughts for the first time. The pyro only smiled more at the jibe.

"So you _do_ have a backbone that isn't bent out of shape. Nice to know. Anyway, seriously. The mug? I haven't seen you without it since I first started coming here. Kinda' what made me think you were homeless. Ya know, 'Spare change anyone?'"

"You wouldn't be the first to mistake me for homeless. Probably won't be the last either."

"Why? Do you enjoy giving off the aura of someone with no hopes and dreams, living in an alley?"

"That's oddly specific."

"Hey, if I were homeless, I'd find the nearest alleyway, claim it as my home, and beat up anyone who said otherwise; but I digress." The pyro sat back and waited for an explanation.

Gray wasn't keen on sharing his life story with a stranger – Especially one so carefree and untouched by his surroundings. (Gray didn't really know if that was the case; it was just the feeling he got from the man, and he trusted his gut when it came to people.)

"It's from the Fairy Café, right?"

Out of honest surprise, Gray sat up straight and looked at his guest directly. The pyro chuckled and pointed to the mug.

"I recognize the design," he admitted. "I went there a few times before. The owner was a really nice guy. Gave me a discount on the spicy stuff I ordered just because of the sheer _quantity_ I ate every time."

A pyromaniac who likes spicy food. It fit, somehow.

"Yeah," Gray agreed quietly. "I met him too. Short old guy wouldn't stop bothering me about my date. Kept pestering me for info about my girlfriend and regaling us with details of his own past love life."

"Yeah, that sounds like the geezer alright," the pyro laughed. "Did the same to me. Didn't bother me much. My date, on the other hand… She got mad. _Real_ mad. The only thing that calmed her down were a couple of waitresses. One somehow _talked_ my date into forgetting about the instance. To this day, I _still_ don't know how you do that. That lady must've been really great with words to have calmed _her_ down. The other waitress – A redhead, I think – Pulled the old man away by his shirt collar and gave him a stern talking to. A lot scarier than the other one." The pyro brushed his bangs back. "I thought for sure after that my date wouldn't want to talk to me or go back there again. Wanna know what she said when we left?" Gray wasn't all that interested, but shrugged anyway. "She told me it was fun regardless of the old man's prying. Said she liked the character and characters the place had."

Gray could relate. He may not have liked the perverted snooping from the owner, but the workers were nice and the atmosphere was friendly. An amiable place. Memorable.

"Did your date go over as well as mine?" the pyro asked. Gray managed a listless smile of his own at the memory.

"Yeah. I don't mean to sound like I'm bragging or anything, but my date thought I was chiseled for her by the gods themselves. She wholeheartedly believed we belonged together. She was my stalker before she was my girlfriend, actually."

"Creepy," the pyro shuddered.

"I thought so too, at first," Gray agreed. "But I got to know her, and realized we really clicked. Evened each other out, you know?"

"I know, very well actually." The rosette sighed. "My girlfriend is almost the complete opposite of me. She's always correcting what I do and telling me I'm the rudest person alive."

"Sounds like a smart girl."

"She's that too. Which makes me wonder why she's even with me in the first place." It sounded so similar to what he'd told his daughter back then, Gray couldn't help but smirk. If the pyro noticed the grin, he didn't say anything. "My only explanation is that that café is magic."

The skeptic side of Gray returned. "Magic?" His raised eyebrow made the inquiry. The pyro tossed his wrists up lazily.

"It's the only explanation I have for Lucy staying with me despite having to put up with my crap."

"Hmph. Plausible explanation, then," Gray murmured. "I don't think it was necessarily magic for me, in that case. Even before we went there, Juvia was stuck on me."

"So that's your girlfriend's name, huh?" the pyro noted.

"Wife, actually," Gray corrected. "She was my wife."

"Congrats, then. Or… Maybe not." For the first time since Gray laid eyes on him, the pyro frowned. "She's not your wife anymore?"

And then Gray realized that, in spite of his desire not to reveal anything about himself, this strangely-colored, slanty-eyed stranger had gotten him to talk.

Damn it all.

"… No," he answered after a pause. "She's not."

"Divorced?"

"Dead."

The blunt word made the pyro flinch. Gray didn't react in the same way. His eyes were back to the chipped handle of the mug, distracted again.

"Sorry about that," the pyro sympathized. "Is that why you carry the mug around?"

The silence was enough of an answer.

"… She went out of her way to get this, you know," Gray began softly. "She went back to that café and found exactly which mug I'd used on our first date there. She got it for me as an anniversary gift. Really, I thought, who would go out of their way to do that? Or who would be crazy enough to?" He chuckled. "In the end, I used this every day. Partly because she would start crying if I didn't, but the big reason was that I knew that was where our history started and how much it meant to Juvia that I'd finally given her a chance. She dubbed it 'Gray-sama's treasure' and would bite the head off of anyone who tried to use it. Well… With the exception of Fuyu."

"Fuyu?"

"My daughter. She was five when Juvia first called it our mug instead of just mine."

The pyro tried smiling again. "Fuyu must appreciate that."

"She did."

Another flinch from the rosette. More temporary silence.

"In the end, this is what I'm left with. Somehow this survived, with only a small piece broken off the handle… Somehow, this little _mug_ survived a burning inferno when nothing else did." Gray turned the mug gently in his hands, as if there were more blemishes in the design he needed to locate. "One stupid, stupid chore I didn't want to do. If I had just fixed that damn gas stove…" Gray sighed heavily. "Even if I didn't… I still wish I hadn't gone to visit my brother that day. Maybe I could've saved Juvia and Fuyu… Or joined them. Either would be preferable to _this_."

His knuckles were white from gripping the mug, but he was careful not to drop it. Lest the last remaining vestige of his family shatter before his eyes.

"I'm sorry." The pyro's voice, sudden and surprisingly soft, sounded so far away. "I guess that's why you aren't too keen on my performances, huh? I wish I'd known before antagonizing you back then."

"It's… fine," Gray muttered. "Don't worry about it."

More silence between the two. A boy ran by with a pinwheel that wasn't his. His younger sister chased after him with angry tears making trails down her cheeks. They were the only entertaining act in the park.

"I have a son, you know."

Gray turned to the pyro again. The sympathetic remorse was gone from his voice, replaced with a sense of pride. His smile echoed his tone.

"His name is Aki. He's two. Cutest little guy ever. Likes to pull on the cat's tail a lot. Happy never seems to be bothered by it, though." Gray was going to take a guess and say that Happy was the cat's name. The pyro chuckled. "Wanna know why I do what I do? Because I'm good at it. Fire is my best talent. Been doin' it for years. The tips I get on the street are great, too. Everyone loves the idea of controlling the uncontrollable. Touching the untouchable. When I perform with my fire, it's because I've trained it and it's trained me. I've trained it to work with me, and it's trained me not to be afraid."

Like most of the things the pyro had spoken today, Gray couldn't figure out a reason for his speeches.

"I like fire; that should go without saying," the pyro continued. "But do you wanna know _why_ I chose that as my job?"

"Because your wife makes better money than you and that frees you up?" Gray guessed with a snarky bite. The pyro didn't seem offended, if his lit-up onyx orbs were anything to go by.

"Well, that much is true. My girlfriend is an astronomy professor and has degrees for things I can't even pronounce." Gray chuckled along with the rose-head for a moment before listening to the rest of the pyro's tale. "However… The real reason is that I want to protect my family. Aki likes my stunts. You should see the way his eyes get big and sparkly when he watches me. He seemed to have inherited more than just the Dragneel's spiky hair. Guess he got my love of the uncontrollable elements, too." The pyro sighed softly. "But having a talent like that is pointless if it somehow hurts my loved ones. I practice daily, perfecting what I know and making sure I can perform without endangering Aki and Lucy's lives. Or the lives of my audience. I need to get what I know under control and tame it. I may be good, but I can always get better."

Gray watched the pyro rub behind his neck nervously.

"But ya know… Fire is still dangerous, even to a person like me. No matter how much I love it. I'm still a threat when I'm performing, no matter how many precautions I take. Lucy warns me constantly about endangering my life. She's always worried something will happen and I'll be taken away from her… And from Aki."

_A smart girl, _Gray reminded himself.

"I always tell her the same thing when that speech comes up," the pyro said. "I tell her I'd never abandon her. You might not've guessed this, but I'm stubborn as hell. Even death couldn't keep me from my family. I'd follow them around as a spirit and haunt them just to let them know I'm still there – That I still love them, no matter what happens. Even if I have to float around as one of those ghost fireballs."

More silence.

A nasal snort from the darker-haired man broke it.

"… I was right. You _are_ insane," Gray laughed. Yes; he honest-to-goodness _laughed_. It was an alien feeling that he would eventually have to get used to again. "You'd _still_ be a damn pyromaniac, even in _death_, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe," the aforementioned pyro laughed with him. "I wouldn't deny it. I can't help loving what I love, though. And apparently neither can my girlfriend."

The joke brought on another smirk.

"So was there a point to your long personal narrative, pyro?" Gray inquired half-teasingly. "Because as it stands, I haven't made sense of a word you've said."

"Ain't too bright, are ya droopy eyes?" the pyro sniggered back. "Among all my gibberish, the main point I'm trying to make is that your wife and kid still love you and watch over you. From how you talk about them, they love you too much to be gone from this world. Just like you love them too much to believe that they're gone from your life."

Gray's grin melted.

"Come on, ya icy prick," the pyro continued, delivering a punch to Gray's shoulder. "Sure, they're not here physically, but do you seriously think they've abandoned you?"

"I don't see any way they could still be here," Gray mumbled, turning back to his mug for the first time in a while. "Nothing moves forward without them. If they were still here, I wouldn't still be trapped in my own mind."

"Stop being an idiot," the pyro snapped. "That cup- Mug. My bad. That mug is your most treasured possession, right? And it's the only thing that survived. Call me superstitious, but I think there's a higher reason behind that aside from good craftsmanship."

"You _are_ superstitious."

"Work with me, here." The pyro frowned skeptically. Gray raised a brow. He was the one using supernatural theory, and _he_ was looking at _him_ like a skeptic? There was something wrong with this picture. "What if – Just what if – Some higher power knew you needed the memories held in that mug to retain your stability? Or what if it was protected?"

"… 'Protected'?"

"Yeah. By the spirit of your wife or something." The pyro shrugged. "I once read a theory-"

"You read?"

"Hardy har. Funny. Don't judge when you don't know me. My girlfriend _is_ a professor, you know. I had to have _some_ brain cells to end up with her. Anyway, I'm going off-topic." The pyro stretched his arms out before continuing. "Like I was saying, I once read a theory. I don't remember all of it, but it was about souls staying on earth and possessing objects dearest to them; or objects that held great importance to a loved one, in some cases. I thought that might apply here. I mean, why else would a puny little mug be able to survive a huge fire like the one you're alluding to? So what if your wife – Hell, your wife _and_ daughter – Are still here, inside that mug of yours? Metaphorically speaking. Who knows? Their connection to you and the memories you guys have in that thing might've been strong enough to keep them here with you."

A good point, and a nice idea; but seeing as it was grounded in unearthly, unproven phenomena, Gray dismissed it.

"I'll say it again: You're insane. Stuff like that isn't possible." The pyro's next sigh was one of exasperation.

"You're hard to please, aren't ya? Here I am, trying to make you feel better-"

"You have a weird way of doing it, then."

"- And you're just constantly shooting me down." The pyro snorted. "You must be the main event at parties."

Gray scoffed again.

"Look, droopy eyes… All I'm saying is, your wife and kid probably loved you more than anything. They wouldn't want to see you wasting your days away walking through the park. Maybe your wife would even yell at you for needed sense smacked into you by a stranger."

_She wouldn't say it out loud,_ Gray responded inwardly. _But she'd definitely say it in her head._

"You mentioned visiting your brother, right? You have a sibling."

"I have two," Gray corrected. "An older sister to go with the older brother."

"There, ya see? You're not alone in this world. Cut the negative emo bullshit. You're the only one holding yourself back, frozen in time. There's at least two people you need to live for. Even if my theory is impossibly wrong – I can tell by your facial expressions that you're definitely thinking it – There's still those alive who need you. They want you to live, your personal family would want you to live, and after talking with you and learning this, _I_ want you to live. So…Well, _live_. Don't keep walking around like a zombie. You're not completely alone. Move forward; if not for yourself, then for Juvia and Fuyu. I know I would do the same for Lucy and Aki, if I were in your position. As long as you have your memories…" The pyro smiled again. It was much less childish, this time. More sage. "Those are what really matter in the end, right?"

It was the first thing the pyro said during the entirety of the conversation that Gray understood.

"… … … You're actually pretty smart, aren't you, pyro?" he noted evenly. "You act like a psycho child, but you _are_ an adult."

"Ehh… Barely. I'm only twenty-five," the pyro admitted with a snicker. "I like to think the heart I had as a child is still with me."

"Oh, it definitely is. I'm just trying to pay you an adult compliment."

"Really? Thanks. So how old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-eight. Why?"

The pyro sneered. "Old man."

Gray smacked him upside the head.

"Natsu!"

The pyro sat forward on the bench abruptly like a dog being called by its owner. Gray flinched slightly at how quick the action was.

A huge grin spread across the pyro's face as a blonde woman made her way over to them. In her arms sat a little boy with spiky orange hair. They were barely within yards before the pyro dashed up to them and wrapped his arms around the two.

"Hey, Luce!" he greeted with a smile. "Miss me?"

"I'm not the _only_ one," the woman said wryly. The pyro – _His name is Natsu, apparently_ – Bent down a little lower and made eye contact with the little passenger.

"Hiya, Aki." Natsu picked the boy up in his arms and raised him high. "Did you miss me so much that you begged mommy to bring you here?"

"Dada! See dada!" Aki squealed in delight, reaching for his father with chubby, outstretched arms. The woman – _And that's his wi- girlfriend. His girlfriend. Lucy, was it?_ – Giggled at the interaction between her boys before glancing over in his direction.

"Natsu… You weren't bothering another innocent bystander, were you?" she asked knowingly. "Seriously, you've got to learn that not everyone is as open to strangers as you are."

"Aww, don't worry about it, Luce!" Natsu protested. "He was totally open for conversation!"

Gray snorted. Lucy apparently heard.

"He doesn't _seem_ like he was."

"Well, the guy _needed_ conversation. He looked like a damn depressed puppet just sitting there by himself. There, I said it."

"Uh-huh… And does this depressed puppet have a _name_?"

"Of course he does," Natsu snorted. "It's… … … Err…" A bead of sweat rolled down his temporal. Lucy sighed.

"You forgot to ask, didn't you?"

"… Maybe…" The rosette stuck his tongue out. "But he doesn't know mine either, so we're even."

"I can _hear_ you guys," Gray intervened, removing himself from the bench. "You're not exactly quiet, _Natsu_." Natsu's eyes widened. He seemed genuinely shocked that Gray knew his name already.

"Hey, you're not supposed to eavesdrop on private conversations, droopy eyes!"

"It's not eavesdropping if anyone within a six yard radius can hear you, slanty eyes." Natsu stuck his tongue out childishly. Gray smirked.

"Hoo boy…" Lucy mumbled. With an apologetic smile, she took Aki back and addressed Gray, "I'm sorry about Natsu. I'm trying to train him, really. Nothing works."

"It's fine, miss." He didn't want to admit aloud that talking with a stranger might've been the thing he needed most. "But just so there's no confusion, my name is Gray."

"Hah! Even your name is as dreary as your personality," Natsu snorted.

"Are you _asking_ to get some tact beaten into you?" Gray challenged.

"What'll you do if I _am_-? _Ow_!" Natsu rubbed the knot on his head gingerly. "Why'd you hit me!?"

"Dada hurt," Aki bubbled gleefully. Natsu grumbled.

"And in front of my kid, too…"

"You deserved it."

"Umm… Anyway…" Lucy hesitantly started. She shifted Aki in her arms. "Gray, was it? Do you live here in Magnolia?"

"Yeah…" Granted, he was living with his sister and her friend in the pinkest house ever despite his sister hating the color, but he _was_ in Magnolia. Lucy smiled.

"Then we might see you around more often," she continued. "We were thinking about looking for a place to stay here. I saw an advertisement for the Strawberry Street apartments and they looked great!"

Strawberry Street… He knew where that was. All too well.

Would he be telling them that that was where his sister and her roommate lived? No, he would not.

"I heard it's a decent complex," he said. "Maybe a little small for the three of you, though…"

"Four, actually; it would be temporary until we find a normal house for sale, anyway."

Four?

Well… He _had_ noticed she was a bit rotund, but didn't want to say anything in fear of being rude.

"As long as this guy walks around the park like he's been doing, I'll probably see him every day," Natsu said with a grin. "Gotta say, droopy eyes. I hope you _don't_ keep doing that."

Silently, he hoped he didn't continue that routine either.

"I think I'll be fine," Gray replied with a small smile towards Lucy. "You may not believe it, miss, but this idiot actually manages to be quite philosophical when he wants to be."

"I have noticed," Lucy chuckled. "But it's such a rare occurrence that I sometimes wonder if I dream all his brilliant moments up."

"Do I have a target on me today or something?" Natsu grumbled. "I'm done for the day, so can I go get my stuff and leave before someone paints an actual Bull's Eye on me?"

"Natsu, stop being rude…" Lucy warned beneath her breath. Gray put a lazy hand up, waving the attitude off.

"Nah, it's alright," he said. "I think I'm gonna finish my walk for the day, anyway. Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

Lucy nodded in agreement. Natsu shrugged. Aki was busy sticking his fist in his mouth.

"You gonna be okay, droopy eyes?" Natsu checked again. Gray glanced up at the sky briefly, and allowed himself a relieved breath.

"Yeah… I think I will be, eventually."

* * *

He and the family of soon-to-be-four parted. When his walk finished – Early, he might add – He wandered back to his sister's flat with his head held a little higher.

She asked why he seemed to almost be at peace. If it had anything to do with him being home early.

He told her the truth.

That a pink-haired pyromaniac with no sense of personal space and slanted eyes had beaten logic into him after he'd been stalking the pyro for a good two weeks.

The look on his sister's face as he left the room was priceless.

* * *

Why no, I can't _not_ put NaLu in a Fairy Tail fanfic. I tried with this one. Seriously. Couldn't do it.

The idea for this story came after we read _The Kitchen Clock_ in my Creative Writing course. So no, I will not be taking whole credit for the idea.


End file.
